Step into your skin? I'd rather jump in your bones (Hollstein AU)
by knenok95
Summary: Carmilla has been going to the same little coffee house, conveniently located three blocks from her two bedroom apartment, everyday for the past year. Only now, it has less to do with their coffee (and annoying ginger company) and a lot more to do with the cute new barista behind the counter. Or... Carmilla has it bad for Laura...like, really bad.
1. Prologue

Your coffee intake has significantly increased, as of late. Sure, you've taken on a lot more responsibilities at work, and maybe having your recently divorced best friend crash in your brother's room while he's away at college wasn't the best idea (especially right before agreeing to teach an online workshop at your alma mater), but you couldn't really help yourself.

Not after you walked into your favorite coffee house on a rainy Tuesday morning (too early for anyone to be up, in your opinion), and caught the new hire dancing and singing like a complete fool to a James Carr song playing softly over the shop's speakers.

And definitely not after she got so embarrassed by you catching her that she completely fucked up your order (three times, but who's counting?) and managed to look absolutely adorable while doing so (you would deny that thought to your grave if anyone asked). You got four free drinks and a good, genuine, laugh that morning (even if you left a $101 dollar tip in the tip jar on your way out). You're not saying this girl was the sole reason for your sudden need for two tall Americanos a day (three, if you count the one Ell gets you on her way home from work, which you don't), you're just saying that ever since you caught a glimpse of her, you've been frequenting the coffee house she works at a lot more than normal. And it doesn't help that they have the best coffee in Manhattan.

You don't even know her name, yet you're captivated simply by the way she smiles, or laughs, or just genuinely exists. You're like Odysseus' men and she's the siren calling out to you in the black depths of the water underneath your hull.

You're not scared to jump in after her.

You usually wouldn't wax poetic over a girl so obviously not your type, but there's just something about her that makes you want to get to know her.

Walk a mile in her shoes.

Maybe take a moment to step into her skin.

Jump into her bones.


	2. 2

You do get to know her. Slowly, but surely.

She's a mystery not even Mystery Inc. could solve. But, you wouldn't mind helping them try.

Usually you wouldn't waste your time trying to figure out a woman who catches your eye. Usually you bed them, get your frustrations out, and send them on their merry way, never to see them again. New York is a big city. You don't worry about running into any of your past conquests.

Usually they don't hold your attention for more than the night, let alone enough to keep you coming back (even if you are just buying the coffee she makes).

Maybe she peaks your interest because she refuses to give you her name. Or any information at all about herself, really.

She talks constantly, but never about herself. She could ramble for hours just about some television show that she claims you absolutely _have_ to watch.

You know very little about her. And what you do know, you figured out on your own.

1\. She's not from New York.

You only know this because she has a very distinct accent. You'd almost say it was Canadian, or at least New England-esque.

She's also entirely too _pure_ and just genuinely _happy_ to have grown up in New York. You, on the other hand, have been living in the city your entire life. And it shows.

2\. She doesn't drive.

She rides her bike to and from the coffee shop. Every day. Rain or shine.

She refuses to take a taxi, or the bus, or the subway, or even a streetcar.

You offered to have one of your mother's drivers pick her up one morning after she came in looking like the most beautiful drowned rat you had ever laid eyes on. She blushed, politely declined your offer, and got to work on making your morning coffee without another word.

3\. She recently graduated. From where? You're assuming NYU, if the hoodie you've caught her wearing over her uniform occasionally is actually hers.

Laf constantly asks her about her plans and if she's going to grad school. She constantly says she's thinking about it. You don't think she actually is. You think it's a money thing.

4\. Last, but not least, she has a fish named Lophiiformes.

Laf also constantly asks how the fish is. Apparently, _she_ \- yes, the carnivorous predator apparently living in Laura's bedroom is a girl - used to be Laf's. They rescued her during their Junior year when they found out the Alchemy club was going to use her for _something_. You didn't ask too many questions, especially not about why NYU had an alchemy club.

You thought Lophi was a dog, or a cat even, with the way they talked about her. _Oh, Lophi was just being so cute this morning, Laf. Oh, Laf, Lophi ate all her dinner last night, she's such a good girl. Oh my gosh, Laf, Lophi ate an entire fish today. An entire fish!_

You should've known though, considering Lophiiformes literally means Anglerfish.

That about sums up everything you know about coffee shop girl.

She grew up in a respectable household, with loving parents. She's not a fan of cars, or public transportation, of any variety. She's bloody smart. And she loves everything unconditionally. Even the misunderstood.


	3. 3

You learned her name exactly one week after you first laid eyes on her.

She wasn't working that morning, but instead sat at a table at the back of the shop near the fireplace, behind the screen of a laptop, typing away furiously at the keys. Her eyebrows were furrowed in either concentration, or frustration, you couldn't really tell, but she was intensely focused on whatever it was that she was doing, a set of headphones in her ears blocking out any distraction.

Her hair was tied up in a messy bun on top of her head, mussed from sleep, her face was clear of any ounce of makeup, she was wearing what looked to be absolutely ridiculous sleepwear, and there was a steaming mug of what you presumed to be hot chocolate to her right, which she absentmindedly took a sip of every couple of minutes only to wince at how hot it still was.

You couldn't stop picturing her through the lens of your camera, smiling that infectious smile that she's given you every day, for the past seven days, when you walk in and you catch her eye.

You were interrupted in your staring contest with the freckles forming constellations over the bridge of her nose when one of the annoying gingers - the bio nerd one - cleared their throat. You acknowledged them with a disgruntled ' _what?!_ ' and they simply raised an eyebrow and handed you your order. You didn't even need to say it out loud anymore, they knew your order by heart. You paid in silence, left your tip in the tip jar, and was just turning around to make your way to the door when the object of all your photographic fantasies looked up from her laptop and met your gaze.

An immediate smile lit up her face the second her eyes met yours and you couldn't help the little lilt of your lips and the way they formed into a small smile of your own. Before you knew it, your legs were moving against your brain's wishes and you were soon enough standing in front of the woman and she was closing her laptop, removing her earbuds, and gesturing for you to take a seat. You found yourself pulling out the chair opposite hers before you even realized it.

It all started with a cheeky _'hey, come here often, Americano - no cream, one sugar?'_ from her slightly curved lips.

You laughed and replied with _'clearly, too often'_.

You asked her what she was working on, she told you it was a personal project. You asked what kind of personal project, she said, "the personal kind". You left it at that and decided not to push her… _that_ hard.

With a teasing smirk, you said you liked her pajamas, she blushed. She said she liked your leather jacket. You told her it was a gift from your father - from before he left and when he still acted like a dad and you didn't only hear from him when he sent Christmas cards from him and his new husband and their golden retriever, Bosco. You conveniently left that part out.

You asked what she was listening to before you came over. She actually showed you. Little did she know, the type of music a person listened to, reveals a lot about them. She was halfway through a song by the name of "River" by a Leon Bridges. You weren't familiar with him. You made a mental note to listen to the song when you got back to your apartment for the evening, desperate to figure this girl out.

You commented on her hot chocolate intake (she had had three cups by this point). She countered with a remark about your coffee problem. You didn't warrant that with a response.

The two of you shared a plate of chocolate chip cookies for lunch and you made a comment about her sweet tooth. She said she got it from her mother and quickly changed the subject, practically giving you whiplash. She started talking animatedly about a 13th doctor and you briefly wondered why anyone would need 13 doctors and silently questioned if she was dying or something. Then she said something about a Tardis and your face flushed. You ignored it. She didn't seem to notice.

You learned a lot by just listening to her talk and actually _hearing_ and _registering_ what she was saying.

You even added a few things to your mental list of things you knew about the girl in front of you, hands waving wildly through the air.

5\. She was a complete nerd.

She loved _Doctor Who_ with such a passion that it was nauseating to an extent and she could quite literally tell you anything you wanted to know about the show. You made the mistake of asking her what the _sonic screwdriver_ was and she went on an hour long tangent. With pictures.

6\. She _clearly_ worked out.

If her mention of nothing but sweets and no _actual_ food was any indication of her poor diet (because you most definitely did not stare at her crazy fit figure when she was facing away from you anytime she was behind the counter and she definitely did not catch you that one time).

7\. Her mother wasn't in the picture.

She had no problem mentioning her overprotective forest ranger dad that sent her day of the week bear spray, but the second mothers came into the conversation, she breezed over it with practiced ease, even though her body involuntarily flinched every time. You also noticed she would reach up and rub the middle of her chest. You didn't question it.

8\. She's known the annoying gingers since she was a freshman at NYU.

Perry (the one with the curly red hair that baked) was her floor don in her dorm. Lafontaine (the one that practically blew the kitchen up last month while trying out a new recipe for their _extra_ espresso espresso) was Perry's roommate and best friend. Coffee shop girl _literally_ ran into them on move in day.

Maybe you could add the fact that she's clumsy onto your list. You probably could've added that fact the first day you met her.

The list of things you knew about her was growing. You were slowly solving the puzzle that was coffee shop girl.

Then, you decided on one last question that you needed answering.

You asked her name right before you stood to make your way out of the shop, just after three o'clock.

"Laura. Laura Hollis," she replied. You smiled and held out your hand.

"It was nice to properly meet you, Laura. _Laura Hollis_ ," You smirked. She shook your hand with her cheeks tinged pink. When she let go, you turned around and started making your way to the exit, stopping to throw your empty coffee cup away.

She stopped you with a panicked _'wait'_. You turned around, eyebrow raised.

"What's yours?"

Your smirk slowly grew into a smile and you winked at her before you opened the door, causing the bell above you to ding.

"I have to keep some of my secrets, or I'll lose my air of mystery, won't I?"

And then you left the shop, shoving your hands in your pockets, crossing the street, and taking a right at the next block, taking the long way home. You couldn't even try to deny the fact that there was smile on your face the entire walk to your apartment.

But, you got her name.

 _Laura_. Laura _Hollis_.

You liked the way it sounded on your tongue.

You never actually made it into work that day.


	4. 4

Ell noticed your change in attitude the second you walked through the door to your shared apartment. Maybe it was the stupid smile splitting your face in two, or the fact that you didn't immediately sneer at the state of your apartment. (It was clean. Ell must have got a call from her divorce lawyer. She cleans when she's stressed. Which happens to be often. It's not your fault you practically raised yourself. Which definitely didn't entail cleaning anything up.)

Either way, Ell noticed. You didn't even get your key out of the lock and the door shut behind you before she was commenting on the fact.

"Do my eyes deceive me or is Carmilla Karnstein _actually_ happy?" You rolled your eyes as you walked over into the kitchen where she was leaning against the counter, cupping a steaming mug of tea between her hands. She didn't wait for your response before mock gasping. "Who died?! Wait, was it your mother?! Because that wench of a woman can go straight to-" She was lucky you loved her because honestly, she was worse than your brother sometimes.

"No one _died_ , Eleanor." She hated it when you called her by her full name, but the glare you always got in response always made you feel a _teensy_ bit smug.

"Well, if no one died then what has you all 'sunshine and rainbows and unicorns'?" You went to comment on the fact that you were in no way associated with sunshine or rainbows - well, maybe rainbows - or unicorns, but she, again, didn't bother to wait for you to answer. "Oh. My. _Gosh_! It's a girl!" You were going to deny it, but your face flushed crimson and that alone was confirmation enough. "Yes, finally! Who is she? Is she cute? What's her name? Where'd you meet?!" She was standing directly in front of you now, practically vibrating with excitement. It reminded you of Laura - all sunshine and rainbows and unicorns - and you instantly felt your lips pull up into a small smile that Ell very much noticed. "Aw, you _like_ her." The smile left your face just as quickly as it appeared and in it's place, a glare, directed at the shining blue eyes invading your personal bubble.

"What are we, _twelve_?" You rolled your eyes and went to step around your flatmate, but she caught you mid stride with perfectly manicured nails at the tips of her slender fingers around your forearm.

"Come _on_ , Milla. Give me something! You haven't been this smitten since that- actually, no, since _never_. And the day you adopted your cat doesn't count. He's a _cat_ ," she whispered that last part. A loud mew sounded from somewhere down the hall and you smirked. Ell rolled her eyes and let go of your arm, allowing you to push past her, reaching into the corner cupboard. "Sometimes I forget he's practically your feline reincarnate."

"And he hates you just as much," you sing-songed, accompanied by a sickly sweet fake grin as you turned around and began to pull out a stack of Oreos. Ell scoffed.

"Bullshit, he loves me. Don't ya Baggy?" You sniggered when Bagheera let out a low hiss from somewhere in the living room. "Damn cat. I need to start sleeping with protection or one day you're going to wake up and no longer have a roommate. He'd probably hide my body and everything."

"Dramatic much?"

"Not even, but enough about your cat. Tell me about this girl, Carmilla, or so help me, I will follow you around and find out who she is myself." She wasn't joking. That was how she caught her now ex wife cheating on her with her older brother. Needless to say, she doesn't talk to either of them anymore.

The look in her eye told you you had no choice in the matter, so you did. You told her everything. And it wasn't until 3am the next morning that she finally got a chance to put in her two cents.

"Well, shit, Milla. When's the wedding? I better be your maid of honor."

You made sure to smack her arm for that one before the two of you fell asleep on top of the covers of your queen sized bed, Bagheera curled up above your head.

The next morning, you didn't wake up until your last alarm sounded at noon, cleverly named, ' _welp, you're late as hell anyway, might as well just stay home_ '.

You texted your sister that you wouldn't be coming into the gallery and she called you back almost immediately, leaving a voicemail when you didn't answer, demanding that you come in over the weekend and that she'd be sending your assignments to your inbox.

You didn't mind working weekends. It just meant you didn't have to deal with the other idiots your sister hired.

But it also meant no Laura.


	5. 5

What was supposed to be a week _end_ full of work, turned into almost _two weeks_ of absolute hell. And your lack of sleep didn't really help.

The weekend was full of booking after booking of appointments with potential clients, that Mattie set up for you, a few gigs - a wedding, three sessions of senior pictures, a family shoot with triplets, and a dog that wouldn't stop with it's incessant barking - and a whole lot of paperwork and running around. That alone was exhausting in and of itself. But to top it all off, your brother called you Sunday night and told you about his drug problem and made you promise not to tell your mother or Mattie and that he was dealing with it. "Dealing with it" turned into you getting a call from one of his Zeta brothers - you think his name was Kirk - at four in the morning, saying Will was in trouble and that you needed to get there as soon as possible.

You took the subway, a night bus, ran a block, and almost died at least twice, to get to his fraternity.

He owed a lot of money to some people you didn't want to find yourself owing money to. He nearly overdosed to get out of it. You ended up holing him up in your shared apartment until you could gather up the money yourself. You had to use some out of your savings because any more than a couple thousand from your joint account with your mother and she would ask questions. You put Ell on keep-Will-in-his-room duty. Ell slept in your room across the hall. You "slept" on the couch, keeping watch in case Will tried to leave. He only tried once when the withdrawal got so bad that he could barely think straight. You ended up having to handcuff him to his bed to keep him safe.

It was a long week. Especially with having to succumb to drinking cheap home brew.

You needed your Americano (and if Laura happened to be the one handing it to you, then that'd just be the icing on the very delicious cake).

The next time you saw Laura was a week and a half later and you didn't realize how much you missed her smile until it was the first thing you saw that morning. You walked through the doors of the coffee shop, hair probably a mess, sunglasses strewn over your tired eyes, yesterday's clothes still on your back. You regretted not showering the second Laura's eyes found you in the early morning crowd.

Her face immediately lit up, but after noticing your disheveled state, her look turned into one of concern. The halfhearted smile you barely managed to muster up probably didn't help either.

When you finally reached the front of the line, you ordered your usual, but what you got instead was a double shot of whiskey on the rocks and a cookie that practically melted when you put it in your mouth. Laura's only comment was, "you look like shit, this is on the house."

You couldn't argue with her.

You wanted to stay and talk, maybe explain why you were MIA for the better part of two weeks, but you hadn't gotten much work done and Mattie was starting to get on your case about it. So, in a quick, last minute exchange, when Laura finally did give you your Americano, you took out a pen from your bag, slung across your back, grabbed her wrist, and wrote out your cell phone number on her arm, as legible as you could manage, with trembling fingers. And with a tired, "thanks for the drink, cutie," you grabbed your coffee from the counter and left.

Around noon, while you were location scouting for a shoot you had next week, your phone vibrated in your back pocket with a text alert from an unknown number.

 _ **[(###) ###-#### (12:02)]: You never told me your name.**_


	6. 6

**_[(###) ###-#### (12:02)]_ **: You never told me your name.

 ** _[(###) ###-#### (12:05)]_ **: If I told you, I'd have to kill you.

 ** _[Laura Hollis (12:05)]:_** Your sense of humor is lacking.

 ** _[Laura Hollis (12:05)]_ **: Honestly though, I could just ask Laf.

 ** _[Annoying Hot Girl From LaFerry's (12:06)]_ **: You think I'd tell the bionerd?

 ** _[Cutie With A Booty (12:06)]_ **: Yes.

 ** _[Annoying Hot Girl From LaFerry's (12:06)]:_ **Fine.

 ** _[Annoying Hot Girl From LaFerry's (12:06)]:_** It's Carmilla.

 ** _[Cutie With A Booty (12:07)]_ **: Carmilla? Hmm. You got a last name, Carmilla?

 ** _[Carmilla aka Annoying Hot Girl From LaFerry's (12:12)]_ **: Nope.

 ** _[Cutie With A Booty (12:12)]:_** Oh, come on.

 ** _[Cutie With A Booty (12:12)]:_** It's like pulling teeth with you…

 ** _[Carmilla aka Annoying Hot Girl From LaFerry's (12:12)]_ **: As long as you're the one pulling them ;)

 ** _[Cutie With A Booty (12:13)]_ **: You're not as flattering as you think you are.

 ** _[Carmilla aka Annoying Hot Girl From LaFerry's (12:13)]:_** The blush on your cheeks probably says otherwise.

 ** _[Cutie With A Booty (12:17)]:_** I don't know what you're talking about.

 ** _[Carmilla aka EXTREMELY Annoying Hot Girl From LaFerry's (12:17)]:_** That's what I thought.

 ** _[Tomato Cheeks (12:17)]_ **: Whatever.

 ** _[Tomato Cheeks (12:18)]_ **: I could just as well ask Laf your last name...or Google. I'm sure there aren't that many Carmilla's in the world.

 ** _[Carmilla aka EXTREMELY Annoying Hot Girl From LaFerry's (12:18)]:_** You'd be surprised.

 ** _[Carmilla aka EXTREMELY Annoying Hot Girl From LaFerry's (12:24)]:_** But fine.

 ** _[Carmilla aka EXTREMELY Annoying Hot Girl From LaFerry's (12:25)]:_** It's Karnstein.

 ** _[Tomato Cheeks (12:25)]_ **: Interesting.

 ** _[Tomato Cheeks (12:25)]_ **: Carmilla Karnstein. Flows right off the tongue.

 ** _[Tomato Cheeks (12:25)]_ **: Now, was that so hard?

 ** _[Carmilla Karnstein (12:27)]:_** Yes.

 ** _[Tomato Cheeks (12:27)]_ **: I beg to differ.

 ** _[Carmilla Karnstein (12:30)]_ **: I know something else I'd like to see you beg to…

 ** _[Tomato Cheeks (12:34)]_ **: You're insufferable.

 ** _[Tomato Cheeks (12:34)]_ **: Aren't you supposed to be working or something?

 ** _[Carmilla Karnstein (12:34)]:_** You wound me, cupcake.

 ** _[Carmilla Karnstein (12:34)]_ **: Who says I'm not?

 ** _[Laura Holl-ASS (12:35)]:_** Cupcake? Really?

 ** _[Laura Holl-ASS (12:35)]_ **: Are you?

 ** _[Carmilla Karnstein (12:35)]:_** What? It's fitting.

 ** _[Carmilla Karnstein (12:37)]_ **: Not really…

 ** _[Carmilla Karnstein (12:37)]_** : Unless this counts? [Attachment: Picture of Thick Book in Carmilla's Lap]

 ** _[Laura Holl-ASS (12:37)]:_** No. It doesn't.

 ** _[Laura Holl-ASS (12:37)]:_** Side note: Is that Camus?

 ** _[Laura Holl-ASS (12:37)]_ **: Go do your job, Carmilla.

 ** _[Laura Holl-ASS (12:38)]_ **: Whatever that is.

 ** _[Laura Holl-ASS (12:38)]_ **: Actually, what is it that you do exactly?

 ** _[Carmilla Karnstein (12:40)]:_** Side note: Yes. It is.

 ** _[Carmilla Karnstein (12:40)]_ **: I'm a photographer. Of sorts.

 ** _[Carmilla Karnstein (12:41)]_ **: Have you never noticed the camera I carry everywhere?

 ** _[Laura Holl-ASS (12:44)]:_ **No, I'm always too busy staring at your ass in those tight leather pants.

 ** _[Laura Holl-ASS (12:45)]_ **: OH

 ** _[Laura Holl-ASS (12:45)]_ **: MY

 ** _[Laura Holl-ASS (12:45)]_ **: GOSH

 ** _[Laura Holl-ASS (12:45)]_ **: I'M SO SORRY

 ** _[Laura Holl-ASS (12:45)]_ **: THAT WAS LAF

 ** _[Laura Holl-ASS (12:45)]_ **: I'M GOING TO KILL THEM

 ** _[Laura Holl-ASS (12:46)]_ **: But, seriously?! That's so cool! Are you like a professional one?

 ** _[Laura Holl-ASS (12:46)]_** : Side note: Pretentious.

 ** _[Carmilla Karnstein (12:46)]_ **: My ass does look great in these pants. Tell them I said, "thank you".

 ** _[Carmilla Karnstein (12:46)]_ **: But yes, like a professional one. With a website, and business cards, and everything.

 ** _[Carmilla Karnstein (12:47)]:_** Side note: Says the one who recognizes Camus just from a picture of a random page in his book...

 ** _[Laura Holl-ASS (14:30)]_ **: They said, "Laura says, 'no, thank *you*'."

 ** _[Laura Holl-ASS (14:30)]_ **: -_-

 ** _[Laura Holl-ASS (14:31)]_ **: Anyways! What's your website?!

 ** _[Laura Holl-ASS (14:31)]:_** Side note: I had to read it for a class. I went over it a bajillion times because he's confusing as heck.

 ** _[Carm (14:36)]_ **: No.

 ** _[Carm (14:36)]_** : Side note: I was a Philosophy major, so if you ever need any help understanding anything, I'd be glad to help.

 _ **[Laura Holl-ASS (14:37)]:**_ Side note: Of course you were...but I might take you up on that offer.

 ** _[Laura Holl-ASS (14:36)]_ **: Oh, come on!

 ** _[Laura Holl-ASS (14:36)]_ **: Pleeeeeeeeaseeeeeeeee?

 ** _[Carm (15:40)]_ **: You're lucky you're cute.

 ** _[Carm (15:40)]_ **: [Link to C.K. Photography Website]

 ** _[Laura Holl-ASS (15:58)]_ **: Holy Hufflepuff!

 ** _[Laura Holl-ASS (15:58)]:_** CARMILLA

 ** _[Laura Holl-ASS (15:58)]:_** You're like, REALLY good!

 ** _[Carm (15:59)]_ **: You don't have to flatter me, Cupcake.

 ** _[Laura Holl-ASS (15:59)]:_** No, seriously.

 ** _[Laura Holl-ASS (16:00)]:_** Your work is amazing, Carm.

 ** _[Carm (16:02)]_ **: Well, thank you.

 ** _[Laura Holl-ASS (16:02)]:_** Of course!

 ** _[Laura Holl-ASS (16:06)]:_** Wait!

 ** _[Laura Holl-ASS (16:06)]:_** That picture of the Manhattan skyline in LaFerry's…

 ** _[Laura Holl-ASS (16:06)]:_** You took that?!

 ** _[Carm (16:07)]_ **: I've actually taken all the photographs that are up in LaFerry's…

 ** _[Cupcake (16:07)]_ **: No way.

 ** _[Carm (16:09)]_ **: Way.

 ** _[Cupcake (16:09)]_ **: You're basically famous.

 ** _[Carm (16:09)]_ **: I mean, basically.

 ** _[Cupcake (16:10)]_ **: AND you have a gallery?!

 ** _[Cupcake (16:19)]_ **: You wouldn't mind if I stopped by on my day off, would you?

 ** _[Cupcake (18:01)]:_** CARMILLA?!

 ** _[Carm (23:57)]_ **: Not at all.

 ** _[Carm (23:57)]_ **: Just let me know when so I can make sure I'm free to show you around.

 ** _[Cupcake (23:59)]_ **: I was thinking Friday? Around 1?

 ** _[Carm (24:01)]_ **: Like, this Friday?

 ** _[Cupcake (24:01)]_ **: Yes? Is that ok?

 ** _[Carm (24:01)]_ **: Perfect, actually.

 ** _[Cupcake (24:02)]_ **: Cool :)

 ** _[Cupcake (24:03)]_ **: It's a date.


	7. 7

You were freaking out.

Okay, ' freaking out' might've been an understatement. You were down right panicking .

And it had every thing to do with one Laura Hollis and the word 'date' .

Carmilla Karnstein didn't panic . Especially not over a date, possibly not-date.

But It was currently Friday. The Friday.

Laura was supposed to meet you at the gallery at one.

You weren't actually supposed to work that day, but you texted Mattie the second you made plans with Laura and told her that you needed to finish up some work and that you would be holed up in the office all day. And that's where you were. You came in early to at least try and go through the several profiles you had piling up at the corner of your desk, but no work was actually getting done. Unless you called cleaning your lenses methodically for the past two hours while staring blankly at the spread of printed film strewn across your desk " work ".

Your mind wouldn't shut the hell up with, " was this an actual date? " " did she just mean 'date' in a casual way? " " were you supposed to get her something? " " should you leave your shirt tucked in, or untuck it? ". It was just a constant cycle of second guessing every little thing and nitpicking through Laura's texts that you had memorised to try and decipher whether or not you were supposed to be going on a date -date with the barista you were crushing on.

And maybe you were going absolutely insane because of it.

Before you knew it though, Mattie was knocking on your office door, breaking you from your thoughts (and scaring the absolute shit out of you), and pushing a tiny brunette in through the doorway with a roll of her eyes.

In a second you were out of your chair, your glasses thrown from your face, and you were trying to shove all of the pictures back into their respective folders, but your hands were suddenly shaking and you could feel Laura's eyes on you as you fumbled with print after print, trying not to crumple them in your haste. When you looked up though, she was smiling gently and waiting patiently just inside the door, her hands fiddling nervously with the strap of her bike helmet hanging from her fingers.

You cleared your throat, ignoring the small expanse of skin above her belly button that her shirt wasn't made to cover, and how she had actual fucking abs that you would give anything to just run your fingers down.

"Sorry, I just have to put this away and we can head out there. I could've sworn it was just 11 o'clock." You were surprised you could form an actual coherent sentence with actual coherent words.

"Take your time, I'm actually a little early."

You chanced a glance at the clock and saw that she was, in fact, a whole 20 minutes early. You smirked.

"A little? What'd you do, speed pedal over here just to see me?"

She huffed out a laugh before replying with, " no ," but the slight lilt in her voice and the way she was avoiding your gaze told you otherwise. You did your best to hide your smile by ducking your head and focusing on the prints in your hands. You were putting the last of the photos into the file folder and grabbing your camera when Mattie knocked on your office door again, causing Laura to jump slightly. You found it adorable.

"Mother's on line two, kitty. She said something about you doing the shoot for her fall issue?" You rolled your eyes, making sure to sigh loud and obnoxious.

"Well, she's lying because I told her ' no ' when she asked me during the last shoot I did for her. Tell her I'm busy." You made to grab your camera again, but paused when Mattie continued.

"You know she'll just call your cellphone if you don't answer." And with that she strode out into the hallway, but not before calling , "And I'm not your secretary, your highness !" over her shoulder. You waited for the click of the door at the end of the hall to release the frustrated groan from your throat.

"I'm sorry, I have to-" you gestured toward phone with one hand, the other resting over the receiver as you addressed Laura with an apologetic smile. "It shouldn't take long, promise."

"Please, it's no problem, this is your job. Take as long as you need." With a nod of your head, you picked up the phone and put it to your ear before pushing the button for ' Line 2 ' as Laura took a seat in one of the chairs on the opposite side of your desk. She made to grab for one of the portfolios you had sitting on your desk, but stopped herself and looked to you for approval before simply taking it. You smiled, and with another slight nod of your head, she quickly opened the book as if you might change your mind before she had a chance to actually get a look.

Turning to face the window that ran along the entire back wall of your office, you answered your mother's call.

"Maman."

"Now, is that tone any way to greet your darling mother, Mircalla?"

"Je suis avec un client, pouvons-nous en parler plus tard?"

"Funny, because Matska told me your schedule was free."

"Elle est un walk-in."

"Ah, so not one of the gallery's clients, then. Surely I'm more important than one of your little pets , dear."

"Maman, s'il te plait!"

"Okay, okay, I just would have thought that maybe this little phase of yours would be over by now, but I suppose I was wrong. It's been awhile since that one girl, I've seem to have forgotten her name, forgive me for thinking that you have moved on. Anyhow, I do need you to photograph a few models for the fall issue of the magazine coming out next month."

"Je t'ai déjà dit que je ne pouvais pas le faire."

"Yes, you did, didn't you. Well, see the problem is, this was never a matter of whether or not you were going to do it, this was a matter of when, and now that you have avoided the situation entirely, I was forced to schedule it for you. You will be on location in no more than an hour. We're shooting on the roof this year. Do not disappoint me, Mircalla."

"Attends maman, je ne peux pas aujourd'hui, j'ai-" And then the line went dead. " Fuck ." At least you were right about it not being a long conversation.

"Everything okay?"

"Um, look- " You were ready to tell Laura that something came up, but before you could get the words out, you were struck with an idea. "Actually, you wanted to see what I do, right?" At Laura's nod and raised eyebrow, you continued, "How do you feel about a field trip?"

* * *

You admit, having a girl you actually really like meet your mother this soon (or at all, for that matter) was absolutely terrifying, but you also couldn't bare to think about sending Laura back home. You wanted to spend time with her. You wanted her to know you. But now, taking an elevator to the roof of your mother's building, camera bag in one hand, tripods strapped to your back, and backdrop duffel at your feet, you were having second thoughts.

Your mother could be brutal. You suppose that was how she got to be the biggest media mogul on the east coast, but it didn't earn her any brownie points in the slightest where being a mother was involved. You were practically raised by Mattie until she left you and Will to go study abroad in London and Paris and Berlin the second she got the chance. You were happy for her, sure, but you never quite forgave her for leaving you to take care of your kid brother when you were barely a teenager yourself. You grew up too fast, in a world where being a kid should have been cherished - your only resolve, when your mother would leave for weeks at a time, hiding the fact that her marriage was falling apart behind business trips to Morocco, and your nanny would allow you to be whatever you wanted.

As the elevator doors dinged open and Laura immediately grabbed the duffle bag at your feet, you were forced back to reality by how chaotic doing a photoshoot for Morgan Magazine could be.

After giving Laura strict instructions to stay close to you, you went off in search of your mother (making sure to steer clear of where the models were getting ready in makeup chairs and behind dressing dividers, just in case a certain ex was present), which ended up being less of a search and more of a quest to get her attention - much like most of your childhood. You ended up finding her in the middle of the chaos, on the phone, yelling about fake leaves because apparently using real ones was unacceptable for an October issue when they all looked dead. Still on the phone, she shooed you to a corner of the roof to set up your equipment, not even noticing Laura behind you.

In fact, she didn't notice Laura at all until your mother literally ran into her, sending Laura stumbling into your arms, while your mother demanded coffee and an aspirin. Which was how you ended up introducing Laura to your mother with a, " She's not your assistant, mother, this is my friend, Laura." You only know she heard you because she hummed, raised her eyebrow, and from behind the black rims of her glasses, looked Laura up and down like she was in the running at the Westminster Kennel Club for best in show before she set off to find her actual assistant. You thought you saw a bit of approval in her eyes, but maybe that was just wishful thinking on your part.

It wasn't until nearly 20 minutes later that you were completely set up and just waiting on your mother's models to step in front of your camera for a few quick test shots with the fans blowing and the fake leaves swirling around them. You didn't expect Laura to offer up herself as the test model, to "save time". You didn't protest, but as she stepped in front of the lens of your camera and the fans were turned on and her hair was blown back and the leaf guys started sprinkling leaves into the air, you found your palms sweating and your heart hammering in your chest. And it definitely didn't make matters any better when your mother threw a jacket at her, a few shots later, demanding that she put it on, and "act like it's fall, moppet".

You caught every slight movement, your finger never leaving the shutter release as Laura slipped into the jacket and held the collar up to her neck and looked straight into the lens, lips slightly parted. You could've sworn she was looking directly into your eye as you watched her through the viewfinder and you could've sworn your heart stopped for a full minute. Before you knew it, she was being handed a beanie and a pair of sunglasses, then the shutter clicked a dozen times and the beanie was ripped from her head as a hair stylist parted her hair a different way and then she was laughing as a leaf got stuck to her cheek and then somehow one of the earpieces on her sunglasses ended up in between her teeth as she smiled at you with that excited sparkle in her eye and you're pretty sure you actually died in that moment, whether that was her intention or not. To kill you, you mean. Because right then and there, you realized just how bad you had it for this girl.

You only ended up photographing two other models. Your mother told the others to go home after Laura practically stole the entire show. She was even forced into another jacket and a sweater that your mother let her keep as compensation.

The two of you left late in the afternoon and on the walk back to the gallery, you picked up a pizza that you ate it at your desk while you went through the photos on your laptop. The sun was barely below the horizon when Laura fell asleep, cheek pressed to the surface of your desk as you hit send on the email to your mother with six proofs for her cover. Four of which were of Laura. And maybe you were biased, but you really didn't think there was that much of a competition.


	8. 8

Your mother didn't use any of Laura's photos for the _cover_ , but you didn't really expect her to. Honestly, you didn't expect her to use them for anything, you sent them as more of a petty _this-is-me-getting-back-at-you-for-making-me-do-the-photoshoot-that-I-said-no-to_ thing. But, when your mother sent you a rough copy of the layout of the magazine and you found all four of Laura's photos within the pages, your name proudly displayed alongside hers in the bottom right corner of the photographs, you were pleasantly surprised (you might've been even more surprised that your mother actually spelled Laura's name right, but you weren't going to say anything).

On your way to work that morning, you stopped into the coffee shop, your laptop open and in hand with the pdf of the magazine open on the screen. When the line dwindled enough that you were finally able to get to the front, you turned the laptop towards your favorite barista with a smirk, before she even had a chance to ask you what you wanted (even though she knew).

She was surprised to say the least, if the ' _holy shit_ ' that came out of her mouth was any indication. You were dumbstruck for a second because you're positive she's never actually uttered a curse word in her entire existence, but when your brain refocused, she was handing you your drink and sputtering about " _you actually sent them?_ ", " _that's_ my _face...in_ Morgan _Magazine!_ ", " _you made me look like an_ actual model _!_ ".

You could only laugh.

You wanted to tell her you barely touched the pictures in terms of editing, just having fixed the lighting and crop of the photos, but the people in line behind you were getting impatient so you tucked your laptop back into your bag and as you were heading out the door, you texted it to her instead (maybe adding a few things to _really_ make sure you got the point across and that she knew just how much she _didn't_ need the editing). If you heard a mug shatter as the door closed behind you, you pretended not to notice and continued down the sidewalk with your to-go cup in hand.

Work was uneventful, you sent out final proofs to discuss with clients, gave Mattie a list of locations you scouted, photoshopped a family's Pomeranian into their Christmas card, and pretty much just planned the next few months schedule wise. All the while trying to keep up with Ell's most recent relationship drama.

In between novel length rants of 'Oh, my god, I just got a text from _her_! What the fuck do I do?!' and 'Maybe I should fuck _her_ brother, see how _she_ likes it!' you got a text from a certain brunette.

 ** _[Cupcake (2:54)]:_** Hey, so I just had a crazy idea (tell me if it's TOO crazy), but I was thinking that maybe since our last thing didn't work the way we wanted it to, that maybe we should try again? Like tonight? If you're not too busy with work or something? If you are, that's totally cool too, but I get off of work around 4 and my only plans were for a movie night with popcorn and a few tacos from that taco truck that hangs out around the park. So, if you would like to join me, I'll leave the back door open. I'm starting the movie at 5… I tend to watch more than one, feel free to bring pajamas...

You nearly dropped your phone.

This woman was inviting you over to stay the night and watch movies with her... you'd be crazy not to accept.

 ** _[Carm (2:55)]:_** Being my own boss has its perks. I'll be there with the tacos around 4:30.

 ** _[Cupcake (2:55)]:_** I would've offered to cook, but unless you want burnt toast with Nutella then the tacos are probably our best bet.

 ** _[Carm (2:56)]:_** You know, I'm not completely useless? I'm actually a pretty good cook…

 ** _[Cupcake (2:58)]:_** Are you offering?

 ** _[Carm (2:58)]:_** Can we move the movie to 7 and I'll stop at the store on the way over?

 ** _[Cupcake (3:01)]:_** This better be good, Karnstein, I never change my movie times.

 ** _[Carm (3:01)]:_** I aim to please.

 ** _[Cupcake (3:06)]:_** Fine, movie at 7 then.

 ** _[Carm (3:06)]:_** You will not be disappointed.

You left work early before Mattie could give you something else to do and headed to the grocery store right away because if you sat still in your office any longer with your already out of control thoughts, you'd surely drive yourself mad.

You figured chicken was a safe dish for the first time you cooked for Laura, but the particular recipe you had in mind required a bit of prep and even more spices and you froze mid-reach to grabbing a jar of pesto.

 ** _[Carm (3:40)]:_** Quick question - do you have any allergies?

 ** _[Cupcake (3:46)]:_** Pollen, mosquito bites (they swell up like a softball), emotions, um… oh, this one laundry detergent my dad used when I was like 12 that made me break out in hives for like 2 weeks…

 ** _[Carm (3:47)]:_** I'll keep that in mind, but I was actually referring to food allergies.

 ** _[Cupcake (3:50)]:_** I knew that. And no, no food allergies.

 ** _[Carm (3:51)]:_** Perfect.

Now that you were confident you weren't going to kill her with basil, you set about finding the rest of the ingredients and side dishes and maybe you could make dessert because if nothing else, you knew Laura enjoyed a good sweet treat. And maybe a well paired wine.

You also thought that if she ended up not liking the chicken, then she could just have as much as the dessert as she wanted. You had it on good authority that chocolate anything was her favorite.

You stopped back at your apartment to grab a change of clothes and an overnight bag and left a note for Ell to feed Bagheera when she got home from work. You sent her a quick text to tell her that you wouldn't be home later before shooting one off to Laura to let her know you were on your way.


	9. 9

You arrived at the coffee house at exactly 4:30, but by the time you pulled around the back and lugged all the groceries out of your car and up the stairs to Laura's apartment, it was closer to 5. Laura was waiting patiently at the top of the stairs, foot propping the apartment door open, a goofy smile on her face, and already changed into her NYU pullover accompanied by a pair of black and red flannel pajama bottoms and pink fuzzy socks. Her hair was pulled up in the same ponytail she wore that morning, albeit a bit more unkempt, her curls a tad more unruly.

You nearly tripped up the last step because you were too busy staring- _admiring_. You thought it entirely unfair that someone dressed in _that_ looked so incredibly beautiful. And then you had a fleeting thought that maybe you should've changed before you left, you were a tad bit overdressed, still in the clothes you wore to work.

Once you managed to regain your footing, Laura grabbed a bag from you (thankfully not the one with the dessert in it - you wanted that to be a sort of surprise) and held the door open for you to walk through.

"You really went all out huh?"

You laughed, the nerves of the upcoming evening finally catching up to you and nodded, following her through the entryway and into the kitchen. "I told you, I aim to please."

"No kidding," she breathed, starting to remove the contents of the bag and placing them on the counter. You followed suit, leaving the dessert ingredients in the bag and placing them in the fridge. "So, what're you making me?" _She wasn't one for surprises_ , you noted.

"Pesto Chicken for the main course, fresh green beans and cherry tomatoes with basil for the side, and I brought a few bottles of wine because I wasn't sure what you liked, and then I thought maybe we could make dessert after?" If your heart was threatening to beat out of your chest, you ignored it, instead choosing to focus on the smirk Laura was currently giving you, trying not to read too much into it.

"I think that's the most I've ever heard you speak in one breath," she teased. You shrugged.

"Yeah, well…"

 _Get it together, Karnstein, she's just a_ girl (yeah, _ok_ , keep telling yourself that) _._

" _Well_ , it sounds perfect. You're welcome to use whatever, but the back left burner of the stove is broken."

You nodded again, but realizing she was facing away from you, you spoke up, "Noted."

"Anything you need me to do?"

"Cut up and wash the green beans while I go change out of _this_?" You picked at your button up, untucking it slightly from the waistband of your red wine colored pants.

"Aye, aye, captain." She soluted you with an over exaggerated hand move that wasn't even remotely regulatory by Marine standards, you were sure, but she looked adorable doing it so you couldn't really fault her.

The bathroom wasn't hard to find, the apartment wasn't more than a bedroom and some floor space for a tiny kitchen and the living room. You changed into a pair of gray sweats and a Rolling Stones tshirt you found at the bottom of your dresser drawer. You were sure it had belonged to your father at one point in the '80s, before he met your mother and lost his cool.

Upon returning to the kitchen, you found Laura with her shoulder deep in a cabinet next to the oven, pulling out cookie sheets one after the other, the green beans, cut and washed, drying on a paper towel by the sink.

You silently wondered what a girl who lived alone needed twelve cookie sheets for, but decided against actually voicing the question and set about preparing the tomatoes and preheating the oven with a silent shake of your head.

* * *

Laura turned out to be more of a distraction than anything else and you ended up charring the tomatoes a bit more than you would have liked, but overall you thought the meal turned out pretty well and the night seemed to keep getting better and better.

The two of you finished off one of the bottles of wine shortly after dinner was consumed and before dessert was mentioned. Laura nearly took out the coffee table to get to the kitchen as soon as the word fell from your lips, the movie on the tv across from you completely forgotten. Your surprise didn't stay a surprise for very long. Laura got one glimpse of the chocolate you brought and practically melted into a puddle on the kitchen floor.

"No-bake chocolate cheesecake sound good?"

"Sound ' _good_ '? It sounds _amazing_! How'd you learn to do this stuff?"

"'This stuff'? You mean, _cook_?" You laughed as she eagerly nodded her head and set about removing the ingredients from the grocery bag. "It was kind of a necessity in my house. My parents traveled a lot and left me and my brother with an Austrian woman whose specialty was _Tafelspitz_. It tastes as dreadful as it sounds, trust me." You shuddered involuntarily at the memory of the unfortunate dish you only ever forced yourself to completely consume once, only for the sake of your nanny. Everytime she made it after that, you would feed it to your mothers dog under the table and sneak into the kitchen late at night to make four peanut butter and jelly sandwiches; two for you and two for Will.

"I have a feeling I'd rather _not_ know what that is…" Laura's face twisted in disgust with a hint of something that resembled sympathy for your past self.

"I'll save you the gory details then," you replied, a smirk on your face, as you recalled the recipe for the cheesecake from memory and helped yourself to grabbing two bowls from the cupboard and opening the bag of chocolate cookies needed for the crust layer.

Meanwhile, Laura was clutching the bag of chocolate chunks to her chest. " _My hero_ ," she sighed, extremely over dramatic.

Maybe it was the half a bottle of wine, but you couldn't hold back the wink you sent her way even if you wanted to. And as it turned out, you didn't, because the blush that spread like wildfire up her neck and across her cheeks was well worth it.

"Something tells me you'd do just fine on your own though, Cutie."

"And you'd be absolutely right." She stole a cookie from the package under your hands before you could crush them all into tiny crumbles and took an exaggerated bite to drive her statement home, but then she paused in her chewing, debated over what she was thinking of saying and said it anyway, never breaking eye contact. "...but what if I didn't feel like being alone?"

It took you a second for your brain to catch up to what words left her mouth and why she was looking at you like _that_ , but when it finally registered and you successfully forced a sentence through your parted lips, it was a miracle it actually made sense.

"Then I'd tell you that it's perfectly fine and that maybe I didn't feel like being alone right now either."

At your confession, she took a step closer to you, your hands pausing in their effort to find all the whole cookies and crumble them into the perfect sized chunk.

"And what if I told you I wanted to kiss you? What would you say then?"

Maybe it was the way her eyes were burning holes into your retinas or the way she grabbed your wrists and the way her fingers burned imprints into your skin, or maybe it was the warmth in your belly that intensified every time she glanced down at your lips, or the pull in your heart from being this close to someone so breathtaking and kind. It was hard to say which made you speak the truth to her right then.

"I'd say I've been wanting to do the same for a very long time."

You were speaking in whispers now, afraid of breaking the moment.

"And since technically this is our second date, it'd be totally okay for me to just lean forward right now…"

You nodded, even as she began to lean forward anyway.

"Totally okay…"

You caught a slight smile pull at the corners of her mouth just as her eyes slid shut and she whispered, "good," a hair's width away from you, your lips brushing together for the briefest of seconds. That touch was everything. You weren't sure who leaned in the rest of the way, but any retort you had come up with died on your tongue the second Laura's lips touched your own.

And you hate to be cliche, but it was almost like every kiss leading up to now suddenly lost their standing on the theoretical list of all the kisses you had before, because the gentle press of Laura's lips to yours suddenly filled up every spot from one to infinity. The only one that topped it was the kiss she gave you when she pushed you back against the counter, her hands on your hips, yours on her cheeks, and that shy, gentle pressure turned into a sure, brazen force that drove a gasp from your lungs and a moan from your throat.


	10. 10

One kiss was as far as you let it go. One _amazing_ kiss, you might add. But you didn't want the two of you to get caught up in something you weren't ready for.

 _Physically_ , your body was ready the second you saw Laura in her NYU pullover and fuzzy socks, but emotionally, you wanted to take things slow and do this the right way. You had a feeling she wasn't going to be just another one of your weekend _things_. You saw the two of you in her kitchen more often, maybe even in _your_ kitchen, maybe on a walk in the park and afterwards a picnic. The thought grounded you, forcing your hands to land on her hips and gently push back, no matter how much the rest of your body and your mouth protested.

You could picture a future with Laura and yeah maybe it was only the first time the two of you hung out together without a coffee shop full of patrons or a rooftop crowded with so many upper east siders that you couldn't breathe without the person next to you immediately knowing what you had for breakfast, but you figured there would be plenty of time and plenty more opportunities to finish what you both so clearly wanted. Laura was fun and real, down to earth, and nothing like the women in your life before her and it was _refreshing_. You wanted more. Maybe not _relationship_ more, not yet anyway, but you were excited to see where this went.

Laura removed her lips from yours with what you would call nothing short of a whimper and it looked like it took everything in her not to lean back in for a third round. If you were being completely honest, it was just as hard for you, to stand there holding her back.

When you opened your eyes, you found hers still closed, her chest rising and falling with the exertion of someone who had just ran a mile. Her lips were swollen and pink and there were cookie crumbs stuck to her jaw and her cheeks from where you had held her face in your hands. You didn't even try to hide the bubble of laughter that snuck its way up and out of your throat. You couldn't help it, you were _happy_.

The sudden burst caused Laura to open her eyes, leaving you staring into wine-hazed irises and blown pupils. You were sure yours weren't much different. Still smiling stupid, you reached up to gently brush the crumbs away with your thumb. They fell away easily, landing messily all over the kitchen floor and getting stuck to the fabric of Laura's shirt, but she didn't seem to mind because once she realized what you were doing, she started giggling. And then she was leaning forward, her body falling into yours, her arms wrapped around your waist, her head fell to rest just over where your heart was beating out her name in its own tongue. And you couldn't blame it really, not when your brain was filled with nothing more than the same.

"I think we had too much wine," she murmured into your t-shirt, voice soft, content. You chuckled and gasped in mock offence.

" _Blasphemy_! There is no such thing, I assure you." Laura pulled back with a genuine smile on her face, her eyes first falling to your lips before trailing up to find your gaze.

"No?" She questioned, eyes briefly flicking to your lips once more.

When you leaned down the few inches to her lips and closed the distance between, it was more her fault than yours. You were just doing her a favor of sorts. It was short, nothing more than a second or two, but she chased your lips regardless once you pulled back, your forehead against hers, eyes still closed, to whisper, "You can never have enough wine, cutie."

"Good to know…" Laura pulled away that time, with a hand to your chest as she took a step backward and cleared her throat, blushing. "So, how 'bout that cheesecake?" You smirked.

It was a sad attempt at deflection, but you played along. You _did_ pull away first.

"Coming right up."

You finished making the cheesecake and ate the dessert sat on the couch in front of the TV, stealing bites from the other's bowl, not at all paying attention to whatever movie was playing in the background. There were no more stolen kisses as the night progressed, just heated glances and poor excuses to at least be touching the other in some way. At one point, it was your left thigh against her right, her legs draped over your lap, her fingers tracing the lines in your palm, her head on your shoulder. You filled the silence by telling her more about your job, your hobbies, your stint at Yale, your cat, and avoided everything about your mother or father; Laura told you about her overprotective dad and what she studied at NYU and how she wanted to write anything and everything and how her friends and family meant the world to her.

That night, you added a lot to the list of things you knew about Laura Hollis.

When the sun finally came up and made itself known in shades of pink and orange through the window in Laura's living room, you realized you spent the night and your stomach didn't churn at the realization. Normally, whenever you accidentally stayed over anywhere other than your own apartment, it was after a night of heavy drinking, mind-numbing sex, and with a girl whose name you couldn't remember in the light of day. You also normally snuck out before she even realized you stayed.

But with Laura, you had lost track of time, in a good way, the _best_ way, and you knew whatever consequences your lack of sleep brought, they'd be completely worth it.

Because you provided dinner and dessert the night before, Laura invited you downstairs so she could make you your morning coffee and you could eat leftover bagels that they couldn't sell from the day before. Laura turned on the radio and the two of you sat at the counter and made small talk about your favorite music and Laura mentioned a few plays she wanted to see before they moved on to other cities. You took a mental note of everything she brought up and thought about maybe making an effort to go on something of a "real" date with the girl sat next to you.

You only made to leave when the ginger twins showed up, asking whose car was parked out back and after the short one pointed out the fact that you were both in your pajamas and socks and definitely not in a barista apron and "whatever blazer in some shade of black" you chose to wear. Laura's blush was instant and you relished in it. You didn't even give her a minute to cool down before you leaned up and pressed a kiss to the corner of Laura's mouth with nothing more than a smirk and a wink as explanation. You left the three of them alone so you could gather your clothes from the day before and change before heading out. And if you heard a quiet and rushed exclamation of "shut it, Lafontaine," you didn't mention it.


End file.
